


this is my winter song to you

by awakeanddreaming



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/M, Fluff, snowy fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-14 22:35:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17517101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awakeanddreaming/pseuds/awakeanddreaming
Summary: “Hey T,” he said, finally. “Do you remember when we were kids and I used to throw snowballs at all the cute girls?”She rolled her eyes, thinking back to the way her nine-year-old self would stalk off in quiet jealousy, her pink mitten clad hands clasped tightly around a book. She would listen to eleven-year-old Scott chase some of the older girls from the rink outside with fistfuls of snow, as they ran away in fits of giggles.Or five times Scott throws a snowball at Tessa





	this is my winter song to you

**Author's Note:**

> This piece is just meant to imbue some hope and happiness into the tag, so I hope you enjoy. 
> 
> Title from Winter Song by Sara Bareilles (thanks PinkGerberDaisies)
> 
> Thank you iwantthemtostay for betaing this for me!

Glitter. The snow looked like it had been sprinkled with glitter and she was mesmerized by the way that it sparkled in the late afternoon sunlight. It was so pretty and if she faced away from the arena and the mucky parking lot--looked toward the Moir house--she almost felt like she was in a perfect little snow globe.

She was halfway between the Moirs’ house and the rink, trudging knee-deep through the snow, her skate bag slung over her shoulder--it was pink and white and she had her CanSkate badges proudly ironed onto the side. She was supposed to wait for Scott before walking over, she was never supposed to walk the five minutes by herself. She’d started walking anyway, cold and annoyed after the fifth time she’d quietly asked if they could go yet. She’d been clutching her new Harry Potter book to her chest when one of the boys bumped into her and it slipped from her mittened hands.

“That book is stupid,” one of the girls from Scott’s grade had said, before running away as Scott imitated her saying, “You’re stupid,” with a handful of snow aimed at her. They both laughed as he chased around the side of the building.

She started walking.

She knew he’d get in trouble for not looking out for her. But she also knew a warm mug of hot chocolate with mini marshmallows was waiting for her in Alma’s kitchen and she could hear Scott laughing and yelling as he and some of the other boys from their lesson chased the girls around the perimeter of the rink with fistfulls of snow. The girls’ squeals reached her ears even from a hundred meters away. She hated them.

She huffed and tried to walk faster her pink and black Thinsulate boots filling up with snow, her matching hot pink HotPaws fleece mittens--wet from when she’d picked her book up from the slush in the parking lot --doing little to keep her hands warm. She took them off and shoved them in her coat pocket. She kept her focus on the prospect of hot chocolate and maybe cookies to keep her thoughts off how cold and annoyed she was that she could still hear Scott’s stupid voice calling to the girls at the rink. He only chased around the pretty ones, the older ones, not the one who was just his stupid little partner, with her stupid little crush. Never her.

“Hey,” she could hear him calling over a laugh, “where are you going?”

His voice sounded closer than the shrieks and giggles in the distance, but Scott was always loud.

“Wait up,” she heard him call.

She was watching a bird flit out of the branches of a tree, shaking snow loose as it went, when she felt something cold hit the back of her head and slide down into the neck of her coat. She yelped, shivered, and spun around on her heel, only to be face to face with a panting, red-faced Scott.

“Tutu,” he exhaled. “You’re supposed to wait for me.”

She doesn’t answer, just continues pushing through the deep snow.

“I was worried about you when you weren’t there, and I hope your book is okay,” he said, sticking his hand into her hood to pull out of of the chunks of snow.

//

Her shins hurt. Burned from the inside out, a fire so hot that eventually she stopped feeling the heat of it. Even though she was standing--which hurt--the cool chill of the air and the snow helped numb the pain. So she stood in the falling snow, arms outstretched, and let the cold seep through her sweater and her lululemons and penetrate her skin. She breathed in deep and relished in the sharp sting of winter as air filled her lungs and pricked her cheeks pink.

She heard the crunch of his boots through the fresh snow and saw his shadow in the dim light of the Arctic Edge parking lot but didn’t bother to turn around.

“You’re crazy,” he said as he approached. “It’s freezing out here.”

“Feels nice,” she said, lifting her face up and closing her eyes to let the snow fall on her cheeks.

“Is the pain pretty bad?” he asked, hesitant—he knew she never disclosed her actual level of pain to him. “Are you okay?”

His second question hung heavily in the air around them, swirling in the falling snow. He didn’t just mean her legs. It had been a year since she came back to skating, a year of muddled conversations and stilted off ice communication and they were finally reaching some level of real friendship, but she still really missed him and missed where they were before her surgery...when there was maybe more. And she was still in pain. So maybe she wasn’t really okay but she was surviving.

“I’m taking my mind off things,” was what she settled on saying, with an exaggerated shrug of her shoulders.

“Mind over matter,” he said, repeating her mantra of late. “You’re still going to freeze out here, though.”

She shrugged again, as if to say, what are you going to do about it? Then she felt cold packed snow collide with her shoulder, breaking apart on impact and peppering her face with little bits of ice.

She spun around to find Scott looking at her sheepishly, another snowball poised and ready. She was about to yell, to ask what the hell he was doing when he laughed, a big hearty laugh that shook his shoulders.

“Mind over matter, Tess,” he smiled. “I’m taking your mind off things.”

She laughed then and shook her head. “I hate you,” she said bending down and scooping up snow in her bare hands and squeezing it into a solid ball before tossing it at the center of his chest. It hit him hard and didn’t break, just fell to the ground at his feet.

“Ouch, that hurt,” he rubbed his chest.

“Mind over matter, Moir,” she laughed.

He walked over to her, taking long strides in the snow, his eyes glinting darkly in the light of the street lamp above them. He grinned at her, eyebrows raising.

“You know, you look really pretty with your cheeks all red from the cold,” he said, before smashing a handful of snow directly into her face.

 

//

They were in Japan, taking a winter walk between shows. The fresh snow crunched underneath their boots, the sound made all the more obvious by the relative silence in which they walked. Winter birds chirped in nearby trees and she could hear the huff of his breathing in the chilly air.

He trudged a few paces behind her, and she tried not to glance over her shoulder at him. Allowing him to follow her. They walked without speaking through the length of the park, neither brave enough to start the conversation they knew they needed to have. To address a change in their dynamic they both felt but neither was ready to deal with.

She breathed in the crisp winter air, letting it fill her lungs with cold. Just like taking a deep clarifying breath after a skate.

“Hey T,” he said, finally. “Do you remember when we were kids and I used to throw snowballs at all the cute girls?”

She rolled her eyes, thinking back to the way her nine-year-old self would stalk off in quiet jealousy, her pink mitten clad hands clasped tightly around a book. She would listen to eleven-year-old Scott chase some of the older girls from the rink outside with fistfuls of snow, as they ran away in fits of giggles.

She spun on the heel of her boot to answer him, “Of course I—“

Her thought was cut short as hard packed snow exploded across her face. The cold biting at her nose and cheeks as it melted and slid down over her lips.

“Hey, beautiful girl,” he smiled at her, his head cocked to the side, grin crooked.

She couldn’t help but smile back at him, snow clouding her sunglasses as he snapped a picture. He approached, cupping her cheeks and stared at her with a hopeful look in his eyes that she hadn’t seen in a long time.

//

She was being careful not to slip on the icy walk on her way from the car to her front door, arms weighed down with grocery bags. The afternoon sun reflected off the unevenly spaced ice patches, the slush puddles of two days ago, that lined her front walkway. She could feel her heart drop out of her chest, her breath catching as her right boot lost its traction and slipped from beneath her.

She managed to right herself before she fell, though barely. She had become so used to constantly having a partner nearby to steady her. She could have almost sworn she felt his presence, waiting to rush up to catch her if she were to need it.

She thought about how she ought to come back out with the bag of salt her brother had dropped off and throw it on the walkway before it becomes a hazard. Not that anyone else really comes to visit often and she was used to navigating ice, even with a few near spills.

She was fumbling with the bags and her keys in her gloved hands as she attempted to unlock her door. She cursed to herself under her breath as she dropped her keys onto the welcome mat.

Putting the grocery bags down on the step, she bent over to retrieve her keys. She didn’t notice the paper folded neatly on her mat until she was all the way down and grasping for her keys.

She picked it up and carefully unfolded it, running the paper between the leather of her gloved fingers.

Turn around, pretty girl.

Before she had a chance to spin on her heel she felt snow collide with her shoulder blade and slide down the back of her peacoat.

And there was Scott, one hand in his pocket, the other still raised and wet from the snowball he’d just thrown her way. He looked at her hesitantly, unsure if his presence was welcome. Not realizing she’d never not want him there, with her.

“I missed you and I’m sorry,” he said, wiping his palm off on his jeans.

“I missed you too.”

//

The snow glistens in the sunlight and a light wind rustles snow from the branches of the tree above her, sprinkling her hair with a light dusting of white. A small giggling rings out into the cool, crisp afternoon air. It chimes like little bells and a winter bird, annoyed at the intrusion, flies out of the tree above.

It’s the perfect weather for packing snow and there is the beginnings of a snow fort in the yard in front of her. It’s not very tall and a little lopsided and to the right of it there is an equally small and lopsided snow family. She laughs, a full guffaw, at the snowball breasts on the mommy snowperson, because of course.

Tessa is taking in the scene before her. Her heart swells as she thinks of the family that lives here with the half built fort, the little snow family, and the broken pink princess shovel tossed haphazardly to the side. She puts her hand over her heart and sighs.

She feels a small tug on the hem of her coat and looks down at wide hazel eyes and a bright toothy grin, curly brown hair peeking out from beneath a pink floppy hat. She is about to bend down when a snowball hits her in the ear and immediately starts to melt down her neck.

She lets out a yelp of surprise and then scoops up the little girl beside her with a grin.

“Let’s get daddy!” She says on a laugh, as they barrel towards Scott on the other side of the half finished snow fort.

The two of them run laughing directly into Scott’s open arms and he tumbles backwards taking them both down into the snow with him.

“Ottilie, get daddy!” Tessa encourages, giving the little girl a first full of snow.

“No, Ottie, no!” Scott manages as two tiny, pink mitten clad hands, smoosh snow into his face. Ottilie shrieks in delight.

“Serves you right for throwing snowballs,” Tessa laughs, lying on her back in the snow filled yard next to Scott.

“I just wanted to get the attention of the two prettiest girls around,” he says, lifting Ottilie off his chest and putting her between himself and Tessa.

Tessa smiles at him, thinking back to little eleven-year-old Scott who used to chase all the girls except for her around the arena with handfuls of snow. He always loved attention. As does his daughter, Ottilie pokes her shoulder.

“Mama,” she says, planting a cold, wet kiss on Tessa’s cheek.

“Yeah, love bug?” Tessa asks, turning her body towards her daughter and husband.

“Glittery,” the little girl says, as she holds her mittened hands out in front of her and marvels at how the snow clinging to them sparkles, a little like it is filled with millions of specs of glitter, when it catches the light.

//Fin//

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of #takebackthetag meant to bring back some cheer to the VM tag here on ao3. Thank you falsettodrop for the challenge and helping get me back into the swing of writing. 
> 
> I promise to get the next chapter of Vegas out soon for those of you waiting, come yell at me on twitter.


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